


Rêves des Mensonges

by SerenityWritesSlash (Starlinghue)



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Lucid Dreaming, M/M, Nightmares, Unconcious Desires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-07-20 00:46:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7384303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starlinghue/pseuds/SerenityWritesSlash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>He's relieved to see the asylum ceiling when he opens his eyes. He's angry, however, to realize that he was dreaming of the man responsible for putting him here.</i><br/>Will dreams of Hannibal among other things in the weeks after he's framed as a killer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rêves des Mensonges

**Author's Note:**

> i finally watched this show and here i am, fashionably late as always

It's foggy this morning, not uncommon for this time of year. The small bay Will sails on is quiet, and a smooth ride even on windier days. Despite being shrouded in mist, he pushes himself out into the water and goes looking for fish.

He snags two within an hour, and a third one after fifteen minutes. Satisfied he heads back towards the shore, the only direction he's certain of.

When he reaches his small dock he's surprised to see a silhouette through the fog; Hannibal strides towards him methodically, calm. He planned to be here.

Will fidgets, he feels the familiar tightness in his lungs whenever he knows he's not alone. He looks away from Hannibal's face, not focusing his gaze anywhere. Hannibal is the first to speak.

"I thought I'd find you here," he smiles his warmest smile. "You've caught something."

Will looks back down to his hooks. Where he once held fish, three severed arms are in their stead. With a scream he drops them, and fresh blood splatters across the white sand.

_He's relieved to see the asylum ceiling when he opens his eyes. He's angry, however, to realize that he was dreaming of the man responsible for putting him here._

"Do you think of me often?" Hannibal asks, sipping his coffee with a hint of amusement.

Will is standing across from him in the kitchen, his dogs running around his feet. They're in Hannibal's home, yet his dogs are here, and they're having breakfast. A bit stunned, he answers, "Yes."

This pleases Hannibal, who sets his mug down and starts towards him. Before his plan can be carried out, Abigail Hobbs walks into the kitchen, in her pajamas.

"I'm going to be late!" She exclaims, shoving some toast in her mouth. "My first seminar is today!"

"Do you want me to drive?" Hannibal asks her, and she shakes her head, swallowing her breakfast with an audible gulp. Will thinks he sees blood spilling from her throat.

"I'll be fine, Papa." She kisses Hannibal's cheek, then she turns to Will and does the same.

"Have a good day, Dad!"

_This time when he wakes up he's screaming._

Antlers, large, twisting. They grow from Will's chest as if he were mounted on them with the mockery intended for Cassy Boyle. He's drowning in his own blood. It feels almost peaceful.

_He wakes to find Dr. Lecter staring through the bars of his cell. His dark eyes glitter._

_"Hello, Will."_

_"Doctor," Will answers, his voice hoarse. "Nice to see you again."_

_"They tell me you've been having nightmares," Dr. Lecter took a seat, crossing his legs. Will imagines that they are back in his office, and he could still trust him. The image fades quickly. "Do you want to tell me about them?"_

_"There's nothing much to tell," Will answers, smiling in a way that twists his entire face. "I just want them to stop."_

_Hannibal looks at him with what one might see as pity. Will recognizes it as pure captivation. He's proud of what he's accomplished, of the monster he's created._

_Will leans his head against the bars, "How are my dogs?"_

_"Alanna tells me they've been well." Dr. Lecter responds affectionately, "She's been coping better with them. She hasn't given up on you quite yet."_

_"Hm," Will feels shaky, he feels anxious. "Have you?"_

_"What?"_

_"Given up on me?" He's trembling now, as he locks eyes with the free roaming psychopath before him._

_Dr. Lecter grinned, "No, Will. Evidence can be misleading."_

_"It certainly can," Will murmured, and he had never hated anyone more than he hated Dr. Lecter in that moment._

 

The air is cool, there's snow beneath his bare feet. Will is freezing. He shudders, looking around wildly. The woods outside his home, Wolftrap Virgina. His name is Will Graham. He doesn't know what time it is. 

The scene shifts. Hannibal is staring up at him from the ground level of his office, where Will is curled up in the loft, between the nook of two bookshelves.

"Are you ever going to come down?" Hannibal inquires, looking very tired but still friendly.

"No," Will answers stubbornly, "I don't trust you."

"I wouldn't either, in your position." Hannibal chuckles, "At least let me get you something to drink."

"Poison," Will hisses. Hannibal laughs again, exasperated.

"Please, Will. Nothing so tasteless."

For a moment Will considers just staying between those shelves until he rots. But something pulls him out, some magnetic force. He finds himself climbing back down the ladder, surprised to see Hannibal holding it steady for him at the bottom.

Hannibal doesn't move when Will reaches the last steps, his arms are now pinning Will in place. When his foot touches the floor, Will turns slowly to face the other man, who is so close to him, watching him so carefully.

Everything he does is to see how others will react. Will, trapped between Hannibal and the ladder, is going to have to push him out of the way. That's how a normal person would do this.

But Will has never prided himself in being normal. Instead of trying to break free, he meets Hannibal's patient gaze and he jerks his chin upwards, defiant.

Hannibal, seeing that Will has no intention of giving him a reaction, smiles. His smile never reaches his eyes.

Then he leans in closer, pressing their chests together. He cradles Will's face in his hands with the gentleness of a mother holding her newborn child. Terrified, Will can only watch as Hannibal moves to kiss him.

_Before lips make contact, he wakes in a cold sweat, shivering in spasms. The cell is dark and he's never been so afraid of his own head. Will turns over in his bed, holds his elbows and attempts rocking himself back to sleep. It's a fruitless effort._

It's his high school prom. Amanda Trescot is asking him to dance, so Will nervously complies. He only came tonight because his father had encouraged him to, and since Amanda is a very pretty girl who smells like strawberries, Will sees no harm in dancing with her.

He doesn't know the song that's playing, but Amanda does. She hums in his ear as they away slowly across the school gym. "Will," Amanda says, "Have you ever been with a girl?"

Will, who can barely look anyone in the eye, scoffs at the idea. "No, never."

"That's too bad," Amanda sighs, "Lots of us think you're really cute."

He finds that hard to believe. The other boys bully him mercilessly, and the teachers are all intimidated by his intelligence. Will supposed it could make sense, since he only really talks to the girls who want to talk to him. Amanda is one of them. She's in his Math class, and she asks him for help with her homework all the time.

"Do you... Like me?" He's afraid to say it, afraid she'll laugh right in his face.

Instead she blushes and looks down, "I really do."

"Oh," Will says, and then because he doesn't know what else to do, he kisses her. Impulsive, but not unwelcome.

He and Amanda date until the end of the school year. It's not a romantic whirlwind, since Will isn't sure what he's feeling is legitimate, or if he's just following a repetitive formula. Amanda knows it isn't serious, too. She's just on the rebound from her ex boyfriend, Tommy. Either way, the short-lived relationship is a good experience for both of them.

It's a week before Amanda plans to go to college when she finally suggests they have sex. Will wasn't sure if he should be the one to ask, and Amanda had been too shy to talk about it before. She had taught Will the most of it, the foreplay and such. It didn't surprise him that she would want to save the full thing for a goodbye to their romance, as it would be his first time.

So when Will's Dad was out fishing, it happened. The whole thing was very slow at first, and then Will got touching her and he felt like he couldn't stop. Sex was easier than he thought, because there wasn't a lot of thinking involved. Will just went with the flow. It felt very strange at first, but by the end of the whole affair Will thought he could understand the appeal.

_When he blinks awake he's just relieved that he wasn't having a nightmare, and he's also relieved to find his morning wood hasn't soiled his clothes. Then, he wonders briefly if he'll ever get to have sex again. Dr. Lecter's face flashes in his mind, and Will feels a mouthful of bile rising in his throat._

_His name is Will Graham, he's uncertain of the time, but he knows he doesn't want to do anything remotely intimate with Hannibal Lecter ever again._

"Dad? Are you alright?"

Will looks down at the little girl holding his hand. She has big, blue eyes, and light freckles dust her cheeks, which loose dark hair falls around in tufts. Abigail.

"I'm fine," Will murmurs, "Glad to see you're okay."

She squeezes his hand, "I'm just happy to be with you, Dad."

They're in the Hobbs cabin, in the antler room. Blood reaches their ankles, and Abigail splashes around in it like it's a rain puddle. She's missing an ear.

One of the antlers disembarks from the wall, and a stag walks out, impaling Abigail in the process. Will watches in horror as her body morphs into his own, and the deer becomes Hannibal, stabbing him through the chest with his bare hands.

"Oh, Will." Hannibal strokes his hair, which has become matted with sweat and blood. "You're so beautiful like this."

A shift. They aren't in the cabin, but are in Will's home, in his bedroom. Hannibal is no longer stabbing him, but is holding him around the waist.

Will realizes he isn't wearing a shirt, looks up, and is suddenly kissed with such ferocity, it shocks him _awake._

_Dr. Lecter is outside his cell again. "You were dreaming."_

_"Thank god," Will rasps, clambering to his feet. "If it were real it'd be worse than being stuck in here."_

_Tilting his head, Dr. Lecter smiles. "What could be so bad?"_

_"Take a wild guess." Will snaps, and it earns him only the slightest change in the doctor's expression._

_"You'll open up to me again someday, Will. When you do, I'll be ready."_

_"Oh, you'd love that. Me, opening up. Seeing how everything works on the inside." Will wanders to the edge of his cell, "I know what you want from me, Dr. Lecter, and I can assure you that you are not going to get it."_

_"Thank you for the information," Dr. Lecter's shoulders relax, and his mouth twists as if he's suppressing a laugh._

The night sky glitters with stars. Will hates spending nights in the city when he can't see them, it's why he chose to live in isolation. It feels safer to see the constellations than to be surrounded by strangers in other buildings.

"Do you miss the stars?" Hannibal stands next to him, hands in the pockets of his jacket. Will turns to him, smiling.

"Of course."

Hannibal looks up, admiring the vastness of it all. "A grey ceiling can't match their beauty, I suppose. Which is your favorite?"

"Ursa Major. It was the first one I learned." Will answers honestly, "My father taught me when I was young. This was the one I remembered. Aside from the Dippers, but they're pretty boring."

"Boring," Hannibal seems amused, "Because of their subject matter?"

Will laughs, "To a little boy, a bear is a lot more exciting than a spoon."

Hannibal laughs with him. Will's never heard him laugh, so he knows this can't be real. He's in jail, of course this isn't real.

"Why do I keep dreaming about you?" Will sighs, and whatever field they've been standing in become a barren wasteland, and the lights in the sky go out. Hannibal stands, dark, with antlers growing from his head.

"Perhaps you've come to feel something for me."

Now they're in bed. Together.

Hannibal is over top of him, his elbows propped on either side of Will's head.

"Is it really so difficult to imagine intimacy with a man who knows all your secrets?"

"Not all of them," Will moans, because Hannibal has begun to grind their hips together.

"True," Hannibal grins, "But you've told me everything worthwhile."

"I hate you." Will is crying. He's crying while Hannibal rocks into him and hums low and satisfied. He's crying because he wants this so badly, and it's so fucked up that he does.

_His pillow is soaked in tears when he wakes up, and Will feels frustration burning in his gut. There has to be a way to stop this._

His hands close around the throat of Dr. Hannibal Lecter. They're in his office, and Hannibal seems unbothered, if not bored, by this whole thing.

"Are you a killer, Will?"

"No," Will answers, tightening his grip. "But you are."

He watches Hannibal crumble in his hands; he struggles for breath, his eyes water. Vainly, the therapist reaches for his patient.

Hannibal's head snaps clean off. This feels better than any illusion of tenderness Will had ever shrouded himself in.  
_  
"You're looking better," Dr. Lecter notes on his next visit, "How are you sleeping?"_

_Will thinks of the hundreds of ways he's imagined killing the man standing before him. He thinks of what it will be like to be free of this virus. Then he beams with the earnestness of a child on Christmas Eve._

_"I'm sleeping better than I have in weeks," Will says, "I think I've found a shred of hope."_

_Hannibal is grinning. He likes the look in Will's eyes, the burning desire to kill. Will knows it was what he was hoping for, and he wishes there wasn't a barred wall between them._

_"I hope you recover soon," Hannibal steps as close to the cell, to Will, as he possibly can. "I would love to have you for dinner."_

_Will looks his enemy in the eye and feels like he's on fire. He matches Hannibal's grin with one of his own._

_"It's a date."_


End file.
